Chapter Text
After Aedes Elysiae falls, Phainon ends up in Castrum Kremnos.
It hadn't been on purpose, really. After the fires and the makeshift funerals, Phainon had grabbed his sword, picked a random direction, and set off. And when he'd run into a Kremnoan detachment headed back towards the traveling city, well, why not, he'd thought.
Perhaps in another life he would've come to Castrum Kremnos as a bright-eyed youth, eager to pick up all sorts of swordsmanship.
In this one, he enters Castrum Kremnos on the tails of a pack of merchants, a refugee without a home or anyone to call family.
"Perhaps you could pick up a job as one of the foot-soldiers." One of the merchants Phainon had traveled with suggests when they approach the walls of Castrum Kremnos. "Castrum Kremnos a city of Strife, and with the way things have been going recently, is always in need of more warriors."
A lump rises in Phainon's throat at the reminder of the Black Tide. He ignores it.
"Perhaps," Phainon says. "It's not like I have anywhere else to go."
He does end up staying in Castrum Kremnos. A few days turns into a week, and a week into a month. The next thing Phainon knows, he's found himself a job within the lower ranks of the army.
"To fight in the war is the have glory." One of Phainon's seniors says, the first day Phainon is admitted into Castrum Kremnos' ranks. "But there is no glory to be found in needless suffering."
"I know." Phainon says, as he clutches his new sword against his chest. "But I have fight the Black Tide no matter what.
That unnamed senior soldier- as Phainon had never bothered to ask for his name- only looks tiredly down at Phainon. The older man lets out a sigh, a muttered 'do what you want', and wanders off.
Phainon clutches his newfound sword even tighter. The wooden sheath bites into the flesh of his hand. He doesn't draw blood, but the pain grounds him.
He works on his swordsmanship, trains from dawn to dusk, accompanies his fellow platoon-members out to hold off the Black Tide. He drifts from task to task like an aimless ghost. Before Phainon knows it, months have passed, and Castrum Kremnos has become something like a second home.
(It won't ever be a real home. That honor had burnt with Aedes Elysiae.)
Phainon doesn't bother himself too much with the politics of Castrum Kremnos. He's located close enough to the edges of the city that the political strife of the inner city doesn't reach him much beyond a hurting paycheck and general stress. He's become a mid-level foot soldier, and he has the ability to hunt Black Tide creatures; for now, that is more than enough for Phainon.
When the Kremnoan detachment, led by the wayward crown prince, returns to Castrum Kremnos, Phainon and his fellow foot-soldiers are recalled to the inner city as the strife grows.
'His highness is here to overthrow the king.' People whisper in the streets, and Phainon can't help but perk his ears up with curiosity. So when he's ordered back into the inner city to fight, Phainon heads into the inner city with an almost uncharacteristic laziness.
He's yet to see any civilian casualties the entire journey (not that Castrum Kremnos had many civilians left to begin with), and Phainon is more than aware of the outer city's general distaste for Eurypon and his choices.
When Phainon finally trudges close enough to see Mydeimos the Undying with his own two eyes, the crown prince has just torn his father's heart out of his chest. The blood that spills across the courtyard is a bright red.
The blood that drips from the crown prince's own wounds is a bright gold.
Phainon stares at the crown prince, entranced, from his position half-hidden behind a fallen marble pillar. The wounds marring the prince's body close up in real time. There's an elated rush running through Phainon's chest. Perhaps something like hope and excitement mixed into one all at the same time. Phainon hasn't felt something like this since Aedes Elysiae.
Prince Mydeimo's gaze flickers over to where Phainon stands. A thrilling jolt shoots through Phainon's body.
"Fight me." Phainon blurts out, before he can so much as think. He doesn't so much as bow, not even dipping his head, instead locking gazes with Mydeimos with what Phainon hopes is conviction in his eyes.
Mydeimos stares down at Phainon from his position up on the steps at the center of the city. His gaze is molten as he glances over Phainon's body. Perhaps he sees something he likes in Phainon too, because the prince breaks into a smile, even as his father's blood dripps down his arm.
The prince smirks. "Perhaps," He says. The words almost sound teasing. "If you consider yourself worthy."
"I'll prove myself worthy." Phainon says. He doesn't look away. It feels a little bit like staring into a fire- seeing that beautiful warm light on a winter night, yet always with the awareness of the searing pain of burnt flesh lingering on the just the edges of his mind. Mydeimos burns.
Mydeimos' smirk turns into a grin; it is a wild thing. Phainon finds himself running high on the sight. It's the first time he's felt anything since he'd arrived in Castrum Kremnos. Prince Mydeimos is both comfortingly familiar and rivetingly new all that same time. Phainon kind of wants to dig his fingers into Mydeimos' flesh, if only to see how easily the prince's skin will give way.
"A competition then," Mydeimos offers. "At the borders between here and the Black Tide. Let us see how many monsters each of us can slay."
"Gladly." Phainon easily agrees. He scrambles back up to his feet. Like this, he and Mydeimos are around the same height. They have the same kind of solid frame, too. Phainon kind of wants to fight him. Just to get a taste of how Mydeimos moves.
Perhaps the mood of Castrum Kremnos really has sunk into Phainon's blood during his months-long stay.
"Now?" Mydeimos is still grinning widely. Phainon watches as the prince flexes his fingers, metal gauntlets screeching with the movement.
"When else?" Phainon smiles right back. "I'm sure with everything that's been going on we'll have to clear out the borders anyway."
Mydeimos barks out a laugh. "Krateros," He yells over his shoulder, eyes still fixed on Phainon. "I'm heading out for a bit. I'm trusting you with the fortress."
Someone splutters from behind Mydeimos- probably this Krateros- but Phainon can't bring himself to look closer. All his attention is fixed on Mydeimos.
"A hunt." Mydeimos offers Phainon. "Whoever can dispose of the most monsters."
"Of course." Phainon chirps eagerly. When Mydeimos starts to stalk off, out of the bloodied plaza and towards the edge of the city, Phainon easily matches his steps.
The hunt goes well. It goes better than well. Phainon comes out of the woods with a horde of a monster corpses dragged behind him, black blood dripping down his arms, and a bright grin plastered across his face. He can still feel his heart pounding in his chest.
Mydei meets him at a clearing just on the edges of the city. The prince is lugging an equally sizeable collection of corpses behind him. An older Kremnoan- probably Krateros, now that Phainon thinks about it, stands at the edge of the city, arms crossed in front of his chest and doing his best to not glower at the prince.
"I did hunt more." Mydei says as a greeting, dropping the corpses he'd had with him to the ground at Phainon's feet. "There were just too many to carry."
Phainon drops his own collection in front of Mydei. "Same here. I brought back the strongest ones."
Mydei grins, glancing down to scan over Phainon's prizes. The monsters are already starting to disintegrate, but Mydei's own hunt is in a similar state. Phainon quickly counts over Mydei's collection. They've collected many of the same monsters; Phainon has more stronger monsters in his pile, but less in total, while Mydei has amassed a larger number of mid-level monsters.
"An even match." Mydei finally concludes. When he looks back to Phainon, his eyes gleam. The prince smiles with teeth.
"An even match." Phainon repeats, eyes gleaming. "Shall we spar when we return to the city? As a tie-breaker, perhaps?"
"Please don't." Krateros mutters, sounding incredibly drained. Phainon had forgotten that the man had even been standing there. Both Mydei and Phainon ignore him.
Perhaps they both should be focusing on rebuilding the city, or cleaning up the mess of corpses laying about the streets of the city center, but when Mydei turns to lead Phainon towards a set of empty training grounds, Phainon trails behind easily.
"Best of three?" Phainon offers, trying to take some pity on poor Krateros who's just a few strides behind them.
Mydeimos laughs. Phainon savors the sound.
"We'll see." The prince says, still grinning. A noise not unlike the happy trill of a chimera escapes Phainon's throat.
The white-haired youth braces himself with one foot. "Race you back to the city?" He smiles, and not even waiting for Mydei's response, bolts off towards Castrum Kremnos. Mydei barks out a startled laugh, and bolts after Phainon.
Phainon wins the race by a hairs-breadth. Mydei lets out a growl- probably protesting the head-start Phainon had gained earlier, miniscule at it was. The two men flow fluidly from the competition of speed into a contest of arms. Phainon spins around on his heels easily and raises his blade to block Mydei's strike. Phainon laughs. He doesn't think he's laughed this much in a single day since Aedes Elysiae.
That spar of their's ends up lasting for several more hours. They clash, sparks flying as metal meets metal. Phainon doesn't think he's ever had the chance to fight someone like this since- ever, really. The soldier of Castrum Kremnos are strong, but not like this.
For those several hours, Phainon feels as if he might be alive again. He thinks Mydeimos might feel the same.
At the end of it all, the sun as started to set. Both men stand across from each other, each bearing their own wild grins, chests heaving with exertion, yet still on their feet.
"You're strong." Mydeimos notes.
"You too." Phainon smiles. He feels oddly fuzzy; a bit like the pleasant buzz of being drunk.
"Again?" Mydeimos offers.
"Of course." Phainon smiles, and he lunges forward, bringing his blade up to match Mydei's gauntlets.